Page 21 of Rat Race

Keeping it cuntry.

“Would you put me the fuck down?” the ragdoll snapped, hair swayin’ as I whipped around corners.

Our watches had gone green a while ago, but I was still eager to get some space between us and the first trap—as well as any of the other Runners that’d be coming up close behind us.

In all honesty, I’d have forgotten the girl was there if it wasn’t for her bitchin’ and moanin’. Even if she was wrigglin’ like a fuckin’ piglet.

You’d think she’d be at least a tiny bit grateful that I’d saved her life, but given the attitude? That dog wouldn’t be huntin’ any time soon.

Fuckin’ civilians. I’d never understand why they let people with no training sign up for this thing. Call it being old-fashioned, but I just thought that everyone deserved the opportunity to learn how to identify a pressure plate before throwing them into the maze.

I picked down the next hallway carefully—a task made more difficult as the blue-masked girl in my arms continued to fight to get free.

“Naw, sugar. I reckon you’re no good at traps like this,” I said, glancing at the light on my watch, a yellow light cheerily now reminding me that we weren’t clear of danger. There had to be another trap close by. “Lemme take care of this for ya. Be a shame not to make it to stage two, right?”

The maze was divided into two distinct stages, usually split down the middle by anoasis, a zone of play generally agreed upon by the Runners to be a no PK zone—y’know, no murderin’ each other. It acted as a rest stop in the middle of the most physically demanding of the Games. A place to refuel and prepare for the fresh horrors lyin’ in wait ahead.

I half hoped I’d see Elijah there. As much as I sort of hoped he was already dead.

Fuck, I really needed to get my head on straight.

“Put me down, you big, stupid, fucking—” the girl shouted, making me wince at the proximity to my ear.

I wrinkled my nose. “Hey now, don’t get ugly with me. I’m saving your life! Coulda let you wander off over yonder and to your death ages ago, so least you can do is saythank youand talk at a fuckin’ reasonable volume.”

Y’know, city folk always looked down on people like me with my so-called simple accent and lack of big-name university degree—and fuckin’ sue me if boots and jeans felt more comfortable than pencil skirts and stilettos. Though, even if I were one of them sophisticated city types, I reckoned I’d be more interested in suits.

Dresses weren’t really my thing, at least not the ones Ma and my sisters wore. Frilly little things edged with lace in Easter colors. Usually with a matching hat that looked more like a frisbee than headwear.

A flash of green on my wristlet, paired with a thumbs-up emoji, warned that we’d made it through the kill zone, and I, rather hastily, dumped my ungrateful tagalong onto the ground.

My thick arms crossed as she scrambled up from the dirty floor to meet my raised eyebrow with her furious glower like a cat fresh outta the bath.

“You could’ve put me down nicely!”

I also coulda left ya there to die.But I didn’t say that. Instead, I went the more polite route. The Ranch wasn’t just good for teaching us murderin’. Manners were important too.

“Coulda,” I agreed. “But given I saved your life just now and I've yet to hear athank you, figured that fair was fair. Well, good luck, miss,” I said, tipping my hat to her and turning to continue my path up the hall with a glance at my watch.

B1GGYB0Y

Good riddance!!

ELLEMAEBOOKS

WESTONS 4EVER!!!

AUTHORBEXDEVEAU

Keeping it CUNTry!

There was a pause, the only sounds her panicky, shallow breathing and my boots against the concrete while she seemed to wrestle with the idea that she’d nearly died back there.

Civvies. I tell ya, reckon they can just sign up and win, no forethought. No plan.

Never mind the fact Billy’d trained from birth for this thing and still didn’t manage to make it out.

You could kill her, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. An unfamiliar dark corner that wriggled just out of reach.Make a show of it.

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